Here is another book I abandoned in
my twenties. I came back to it because I thought I was 'ready' for
it. I am glad that I did, mainly because I have not duplicated the
mistakes of the protagonist of the story.
George
Bowling is an overweight man. At the age of forty-five, he discovers
he is married with two children. He is in a safe and respectable job
that he performs well. Life is comfortable but unchallenging for
George, and he becomes disquieted by it all.
A
little piece of luck comes George's way; but instead of sharing it with
his family, he decides to use it for his own selfish purposes. He
tells his wife he is going to Birmingham on business for a few days. In
reality, George goes back to his childhood village to do a spot of
fishing and to take a walk down memory lane. What he finds unsettles
him even more.
Coming Up for Air
is a book about the anxiety of a mid-life crisis and the folly of
seeking a cure in the past. It is a pessimistic book. Through George
Bowling, we feel the oppression of the prospect an imminent war, we
witness both the harmless and the hateful lunacies to which human fall
prey in their lives: lives that are portrayed as long, barren and
pointless. George Bowling thinks his present-day life is in the 'bottom
of a dustbin', and he yearns to surface, to come up to the fresh air, by
going home to Lower Binfield, where life had been simpler and sweeter.
In the end, he finds himself deeper in the dustbin with the realisation
that the past is neither a cure nor an anodyne for the pain of the
present.
Far
more rewarding than George Bowling's story of self-pity, frustration
and nihilism - he could have found his cure in any book on Buddhism and
Mindfulness - is the way the story is told. Orwell has George tell his
tale in the first-person. For all his pessimism and jaundiced outlook
on life, George Bowling is a great storyteller. His evocation of his
childhood, with all its excursions down the lanes and side-streets of
family history, schooling and young love, is quite exquisite. George
lays it out in a pretty pattern for the reader, and in such sharp-relief
with the dissatisfaction of his present life that we truly feel his
existential pain.